Page 40 of Aldo

“I love how your mind works.”

I was more relaxed during my shift, my anxiety lessening as time went by. It had been a few nights since the incident with the asshole customer—or Ernest Morton, as I now knew his name to be. As I suspected, he had been reacting to whatever had been upsetting him at the moment and had no doubt moved on. Even if he could come back, I doubted he would. If I had acted that way, I would avoid the place it happened completely, far too embarrassed to show my face again. He probably regretted his behavior.

Aldo was covering tonight, so when I finished, I headed down to my car. As I approached it, I felt a shiver run through me. I looked around but noticed nothing out of the ordinary. A few other staff headed to their cars, the distant sound of other vehicles leaving on various levels. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet my nerves returned. I got to my car, unlocked it, and slid in. I turned to put my purse on the seat beside me and froze. Lying on the passenger seat was a dead rat. With the door shut, I could smell the putrid stench, and I grabbed at the door handle to open it, shocked when it wouldn’t budge. Then I saw him. Standing next to the car, holding the door shut with the weight of his hands pressed on the metal. Ernest Morton.

“That’s what happens to people who cross me,” he said, loudly enough for me to hear through the glass. I covered my nose, the odor hitting me. I leaned on the horn, the sound loud in the garage. He leered at me, then let go, laughing as he strolled away.

I opened the door, stepping out, shaking.

I looked over at the rat, furious and upset. Obviously, I was wrong about him moving on. He was still angry.

But what kind of sicko did something like this?

I grabbed my phone and called Aldo. He answered right away, his voice concerned.

“Vi, baby—you okay?”

“N-no.”

I could hear him running. “Where are you?”

“At my car.”

“Five minutes.”

He was there in four. He looked at me, in my car, and was on the phone, talking fast, his voice low and furious.

He hung up and pulled me into his arms. We waited only another couple of minutes. Aldo handed my keys to a younger man. “Get rid of it.”

“Not my car,” I gasped. “I need it.”

“The rat,” he explained. “And get the car detailed.”

He tugged me close, and we headed to the elevator. “I’ll take a cab home.”

“You’re staying here.”

I didn’t argue.

In the room, he poured us each a scotch, and he sat beside me. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

I did and he listened. “You’re parking in the VIP section from now on.” He held up his hand before I could argue. “It’s locked with security. And I’m going to find this asshole and teach him a lesson.”

“What if⁠—”

His raised brow silenced me.

“And you’ll be escorted to and from your car. No arguments.”

I didn’t plan on arguing.

“I guess he was still pissed over the tweezer remark.”

Aldo shook his head. “I checked him out. He has a temper. A few run-ins with the law. He’s had a lot of jobs, and when I got my hands on his employment files, it showed anger issues and personality conflicts every time. He never lasts at a job long. He likes to gamble, and although he has some luck, he loses more than he makes most of the time. He’d had a bad night when he came to the deli. He’d been up and lost it all.” He lifted a shoulder. “Some people just don’t know when to walk away. He made a stupid bet against the house.”

“How did you get hold of his employment files?”

He arched his eyebrow, refusing to answer.